Hailey's Story
by twistedIwish
Summary: First shot at all original characters,teen drama of a bipolar mind, rated T for language and situations not suitable for kiddies  .


I couldn't help but think to myself, is this what goes on in everyone's head or am I just crazy?

I mean I know I'm crazy to a certain extent but even this doesn't seem right. At times like these there is no doubt in my mind that I am bi-polar. But on the other hand, I don't really think a crazy person's self-diagnosis counts for much. Yes I admit that I am crazy.

I am the type of completely mental person who rocks on the floor staring at nothing. I have a good reason for that though. I am a fucking genius. I'm not some math whiz, I can't spell to save my life and I have no photographic memory when it comes to school work. But I do when it comes to the important stuff. It's hard to explain bluntly, but I'm sure my genius-ness will slip out in these papers. But right now you won't catch a glimpse of it because right now the crazy's head is reeling with a newfound insanity.

When my head pounds I can't think straight, I feel like I'm so dyslexic maybe I should be in special-ed. Not only that, but my weakness come out to eat me alive.

My fear. My paranoia. Most of all, my confusion. Its times like this I wish I had someone- Any one that could be there for me. But I know that just isn't possible. If I let anyone in during these moments there is no saying what could happen. My guard is down, no not down that doesn't seem right... More like its missing. Nowhere to be seen, I can't summon it- I'm left utterly defenseless. If I let someone in I would most likely get stabbed in the back. I know this from experience. I can't deal with the massive amounts of guilt and paranoia that follows when I spill my guts. It makes me want to- well basically spill my guts all over the toilet. That there is enough to have me reeling away from social circumstances, but what really gets to me is the fact that someone now knows my secrets, they know what really goes on in my head and they see me for what I really am.

Weak.

And that is just not acceptable.

For the few moments when I let it all out, I am free, so relieved. I feel as if I am flying everything is perfect. I can't help but think to myself

"I am not alone; finally I have someone that understands."

But of course that feeling fades, and when it's the next day I realize what a mistake it was to spill my guts. What a mistake it was to trust her. What a mistake I am becoming. I feel so low like I've just hit rock bottom. But I'm not even close to there. I'm still miles above on a cliff about to slip into the abyss. Days and weeks go by but eventually everything comes full circle and I'm left standing the final one to get screwed over. Of course though no one realizes that, it's a completely mental screw-over. I may be the one that loses but lucky for me theses idiots think they lost.

I mean I'm tired of putting on this act. I am tired of having to be careful with my words so I don't hurt anyone, and most of all I'm tired of pretending to care. So let the shit hit the fan.

Yes this I suppose is my therapy. I tried therapy but it didn't work since my therapist was a complete idiot. I didn't have to pull out any of my tricks, hell I didn't even have to try. He was the type of person that was just so easy to lie too it just came naturally. The wonderful reason I was in therapy is because I tried to kill myself. I will let you all be upset about that for a moment.

Just because I tried to kill myself though doesn't mean I'm weak. That was the biggest thing on my mind after I majorly failed at death. I mean everyone in my family saw me as the smart child, the goody-two-shoes. And now I was the weak one. So weak I couldn't even handle life.

But that's not why I did it. I didn't for a totally opposite reason, I was sick of life. It was boring and tedious-especially worse because I'm a teenager. Old enough to know I have the right to freedom but too young to do anything about it. I figured I had just about seen everything I needed to do in my epic life. So why stick around? I mean what am I living for? Nothing. Nothing at all. I was just living because I was to chicken to do anything about it. So I did do something, and might I add, very badly. Of course my first mistake was taking pills to get the dirty deed done. I might suggest not using pills? They are so unreliable. Pills are the hardest way to do yourself in, which now that I think about it is probably the reason I chose them. Wow I was cocky even when I was trying to kill myself. But I wanted pills, they seemed perfect (no mess) and very dramatic, I mean just imagine;

Mother walking into my room in the morning seeing me fast asleep, but alas! Her face would fall when she realized I had no heart beat and it was too late. Ha.

Actually I was way off; instead after sleeping for two hours I woke up and immediately threw up off the side of my bed, The bed felt like it was a ship in the middle of the ocean, but my bed was made of the ocean to- I was drowning in the comfyness of my bed until I couldn't take it anymore and blew more beautiful chunks. Eventually it became too much and in an effort to make it stop I began to sit up and make my way to the bathroom only to collapse on the ground and guess what? I threw up some more.

My second mistake was telling my mom in the morning because that led to going to the doctors, which led to me laying in the hospital all day which led to my parents crying ( super uncomfortable moment) and me peeing in a cup about 3 times. Now this is when the stupid part starts, when all the stupid characters come into play. So I'm lying in bed trying not to think about what the nurse just said.

"she will be perfectly fine, the main concern we had were her Tylenol levels from all the pills she had taken, she is at 55 and normal is around 20 but she was never in harm of actually dying, it would of have to been quadruple that."

So help me I wanted to scream. I wanted to gauge her eyes out. Why, why, why would she tell us that? I already know I failed miserably, now this bitch is trying to rub it in my face? God, she's probably one of those girls that was a prep when she was in school and became a nurse "to help people" or some other bullshit. But deep down she is still that same old shallow prep. People like me will always make her sick. That's okay because- hell I don't know where I'm going with this, because honestly it's not okay. I still want to spit in her face.

The next few days were bliss I felt nothing but it was a good nothing. I had been so consumed by pure rawness of blank. That's the only way I could describe it; blank. Blank yet my mind wouldn't stop running over every little thing that is wrong with me, my life, and this world. But after my fail of a suicide attempt I was blank-but contempt with it. I felt no urge to fix myself; I felt no urge to curl up in a ball, and most of all no need to prove myself. As they say the storm will pass, the sun will come. Well then the sun is sure to go at some point too.


End file.
